


Whiskey river take my mind

by GusGustaffson



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: ALL the issues, Drinking, Lots of Cursing, Relationship Issues, Slash if you squint, cursing, discussing shit, michael is an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 13:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14402709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GusGustaffson/pseuds/GusGustaffson
Summary: Set during the time Trevor and Michael hide out in the desert.Trevor takes Michael out for a drink and they start talking about their friendship





	Whiskey river take my mind

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, this is my first entry in the GTAV fandom, 10 years too late.  
> This fic is inspired by the song Whiskey River from Willie Nelson. English isn't my first language so critiques are appreciated!

Whiskey river take my mind

 

If he had to spend another day in this hellhole, he would roll in marinade, walk out in the desert and get eaten by the motherfuckin’ coyotes. Probably by some hillbillies too.  
That’s what went through Michaels head as he was lying on T’s bed in this smelly, old trailer staring at the ceiling. Speaking of old and smelly things. He could hear Patricia doing the dishes. It was almost amusing seeing the old mob-lady clean up after Trevor as if she was his wife. Almost. Fucking Trevor.  
He glanced at his watch. Time didn’t pass in this place. The moment you thought a minute was over you’d look at the fucking clock and guess what. It still was nine o’clock in the evening. Just like before. This place seemed to consciously want to kick Micheal in the nuts. Just for the hell of it. Maybe this was some twisted karma-bullshit. Who the fuck knew. It’s not like he deserved it. Well maybe a little, but mostly this was Trevor’s fault not his. Fuck Trevor. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-  
“Ey, Mikey, you asleep yet?”  
Thinking of the devil. That’s what it gets ya.  
“Nah, T”, Michael answered.  
“Up for a beer, pal?”  
Michael sighed, closing his eyes reluctantly. A shitty beer was probably better than sulking on this moldy bed.  
“Sure…”, he said, getting up slowly.  
Trevor was standing outside carrying two camping chairs in one hand and a six-pack in the other. “C’mon I know just the place. We’ll take my truck.”  
“Alright.”  
Trevor threw the stuff in the back of the truck and got in. Micheal followed. They drove south. For once Trevor wasn’t listening to that infernal punk of his, instead the radio was blaring country music. If he wasn’t mistaken the artist was Willie Nelson. _Whiskey river take my mind… Don’t let her memory bury me…_ Not Michaels favourite, but hey, still better than punk. Everything was better than punk.  
After five minutes the truck left the street and went off-road. They came to a stop on a slightly higher than average sandhill. “Here we are, best seats in the neighbourhood”, Trevor said. He got out and started propping the chairs up. Michael got out as well, watching Trevor work, the last rays of sunshine illuminating his frame.  
“Instead of just standing there, you lazy fuck, how ‘bout you take a look under your seat and pull out the bottle of whiskey I stashed there. Michael scoffed, flipping Trevor off but getting the bottle anyway. He took a look at the label. “Wow T, that’s actual good fucking whiskey…!”  
“Of fucking course it is.”  
Michael raised an eyebrow. “What’s the occasion? Being on the run form the Mexican mafia? Being stuck in the damn desert?”  
“I actually brought it to stick it up your ass side-ways but your ideas work too, I guess”, Trevor retorted.  
Michael laughed and sat on one of the cheap camping chairs. Trevor sat down next to him and took two beers. “First beer, then whiskey.” He handed one to Michael.  
“Fine by me.”  
They opened the cans simultaneously, both taking a sip. The sun was almost gone now, the first stars starting to become visible on the dark sky. “Say what you want, but you can’t see the stars from motherfucking Vinewood, can you?”  
Michael nodded reluctantly, taking another sip. “Guess you’re right, T.”  
“I tend to be.”  
They sat for a while in silence. Then Trevor burped loudly. He wiped his mouth, looking at Michael from the corner of his eyes.  
“I missed this, you know.”  
Michael eyed Trevor. “The desert?”  
“Nah man, not that! Well kinda. But what I meant was this. Us. Sitting together, having a drink. Like we used to.”  
“Oh.”  
“Yeah.”  
Silence fell over them again. And again, it was Trevor who disturbed it. _Just can’t let it go_ , Michael thought.  
“You never missed any fucking thing of it, did you? Never ever thought about how your pal T was doing all these goddamn years.”  
Michael sighed audibly, avoiding Trevor’s piercing gaze. He got that crazy spark in his eyes again and Michael was not up to have another fight with the lunatic.  
“What do you want me to say, T?”  
“The truth.”  
“I told you. I did it for my family. I didn’t have time to think about you or Brad.”  
“Liar. Soaking in the sun in motherfucking Vinewood all day, getting fat and not thinking that your buddy Trevor might like some of the sunshine too”  
“Fuck You, T.”  
“Fuck you, dickhead. Whiskey?”  
“Yeah.”  
Michael took the offered bottle and took a sip. Then Trevor took it from him and took some gulps for himself. They sat there for another half hour. The sky was completely dark now, moon and stars shining. Trevor had lit the headlights of the truck for them in case of wild animals approaching. You never knew out here. They shared the last two beers with each other.  
“You broke my fucking heart, you know”, Trevor murmured, his speech slurring from the alcohol. And Michael looked at him. Looked at him, gathering all the honesty he could muster to say the words he was about to say. “Yeah. I know.”  
Trevor grinned at that. “And yet you never cared.”  
“I did care. Sometimes.”  
“But not enough to let me know you’re still alive…?”  
“I guess”, Michael mused.  
“You, my friend, are a selfish asshole.”  
Michael chuckled. Not mockingly but bitter. “I know. God fucking damn, I know.”  
This actually surprised Trevor. “Are you gaining some self-awareness after all those years?”  
“I guess I always knew. I mean… look at my fucking ungrateful kids. Fucking brats. But there is some part of me that knows it’s my fault. I made them like that. I poisoned them. That’s why they grew up to become shitty people.”  
Trevor patted Michaels shoulders with a little too much force, but the good intention was there. Michael went on: “You are a good friend, T. You might be a murdering, drug-abusing and unstable maniac, but you are a good friend.”  
“Someone has to be”, Trevor answered.  
“Ha…I guess you’re right. I ain’t changing. I always convince myself I can, but in the end… I am a ruthless thug. I am not the good guy. As much as I liked to… I am sorry T.”  
“Ah, it’s okay. Nice that you are honest with me for once. Want some more Whiskey? I got another bottle stashed under the driver’s seat.”  
“Sure. If we keep on drinking like this, we’ll forget the whole damn night.”  
Trevor laughed quietly. “Yeah. Probably.”


End file.
